


That Time Estinien Accidentally Got Himself Engaged

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Series: Taming Dragons [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: But Aymeric knows better, Estinian is cranky, Even though he claims he isn't, Fluffy adorable Ishgardian Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail
Summary: Set towards the end of SBlood, post Ala Mhigo liberation. Estinien is NOT a romantic. He isn't, okay? No matter what Aymeric thinks.Same headcanon-verse as my other two Estimeric fics.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Taming Dragons [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733218
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	That Time Estinien Accidentally Got Himself Engaged

It was rare to have a night without paperwork. Rare indeed, and to some degree the leader of Ishgard’s forces couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty at taking such pleasure in it. Lack of paperwork had nothing to do with there not _being_ paperwork and everything to do with the fact that he was far from Ishgard. Not on any sort of pleasure trip, but halfway across the world, with the other Alliance leaders. The liberation of Ala Mhigo still seemed almost like a dream, but he knew it would sink in ere some time passed. Much like the ending of the Dragonsong war in his own beloved Ishgard. And while this was certainly no pleasure trip...that didn’t mean he minded the lack of work right now. Even for merely a brief reprieve.

It would have been better if Estinien had been here… but those thoughts were ever present on his mind and though it grew no easier, he had come to accept - if not enjoy - the fact that distance separated them. Not permanently. And...not completely, as evidenced by the small trinkets that he occasionally found stealthily left on his nightstand from time to time. Just simple things… but always thoughtful. A bottle of his favourite wine, a jar of the oil he preferred to use to shine his armour, a little box of his favourite loose tea. The small, intricately carved jade dragon figurine was his favourite, and he had made sure to tuck the small trinket into his things when he packed for this trip. Setting it on the small table beside his bed where he could see the little twinkling rubies set into its eyes. That one had caught Lucia’s attention, and she had snorted softly with a knowing look and suggested that Estinien had a sense of humor. Which he did, though few were fortunate enough to witness it. After that, she always made a point to ask about what new ‘toys’ the dragoon had brought him. They both laughed over the letter opener formed into a miniature facsimile of Naegling, and he had since refused to use anything else to open his mail.

But though he found no fault in sharing the small joys of the little presents with Lucia, he kept the letters to himself. Not because they were in some way explicit or scandalous….but because they were _his_. A deeper connection to his dragoon and one that he wasn’t willing to share, even with his dear and loyal friend. There was one with every gift, and he would slip them into his coat until the day was at its end and he could curl up in front of the fire and hungrily devour every word that Estinien wrote. They were hardly eloquent words; that had never been Estinien’s forte, and they were too often abrupt and almost awkward in a rather adorable way. But all that mattered was that they came from Estinien. Painting pictures of his journeys, of things seen and experienced, telling tales of the small trinkets and the occasions he came upon them. Things that might have seemed middling and of little consequence to others...but things that he cherished almost more than the gifts. It was a sharing, something that Estinien so rarely partook of. A way of opening up, of letting Aymeric in, even if only through parchment and ink. And he treasured that gesture more than any letters or gifts.

He’d only caught Estinien once or twice. On the eve of the battle at the wall, when the smoke was still dying down and the Warriour of Light and the Scions had so narrowly managed to halt Shinryu’s fury. The silver-haired man hadn’t even bothered with stealth, stalking into Aymeric’s room as if to see for himself that his lord was hale and whole. A fact that he himself had been more than happy to demonstrate. He’d even managed to keep Estinien there until he fell asleep with his head snuggled up on that scarred shoulder and his arm wound tightly around Estinien’s waist in the contented afterglow. Waking alone had been disappointing but not surprising, and the sting had been salved somewhat by the stalk of pale violet snapdragons lying beside him on the pillow. He’d pressed them in one of his books, though he was certain that the dragoon would scoff and declare him a witless romantic. When _he_ was the one leaving flowers and tokens of affection. The second time had been when he arrived in Kugane, and it had been little more than a glimpse of silver hair and a very familiar lance and armour. The crowd between them had prevented him from closing the distance and he had barely been able to make out the faint glint of red from beneath the visor as the dragoon nodded to him and faded into the bustle of the market streets.

His next gift had been a box of candied persimmons left that night and he had shared them with Lucia in his tent in the Doman camp. But strangely, there had been no letter this time, and he tried to ignore the disappointment that he felt at the lack of those words. Certainly there was a reason for it, and he couldn’t presume to know what Estinien was doing right now, and it would be foolish to allow himself to dwell on such a thing. Not when the Alliance forces were making for Ala Mhigo with the return of the Warriour of Light and her band of Scions from the newly liberated Doma. His duties as commander of Ishgard’s forces had actually kept his mind occupied enough that he’d not even taken note of the fact that there had been no new gifts since the persimmons, and it wasn’t until Lucia inquired in passing that the realization struck him.

And worried him.

It was ridiculous, to worry for Estinien; the man was far from incapable of taking care of himself and it was simply hubris to expect that shopping for presents for his lover would take precedence over whatever soul-searching he was doing. And yet… he couldn’t help it. A pattern had been established and while Estinien ever did exactly what Estinien wanted… it was still unlike him to deviate in such a manner without some explanation. And it was that worry, that inner warring with himself that had kept him from sleep and sent him up to the rooftops of the building housing his quarters in the Ala Mhigan quarter. The night was chillier than he had expected it to be in the hotter clime, but it was still yalms away from Ishgard’s bitter cold and the cool breeze felt good as it stirred dark curls. Watching the stars overhead, this time he wasn’t caught off guard by the soft step of booted feet behind him and he smiled outwardly. And sighed with relief inwardly.

“An actual visit this time, my own? Fain that I should deserve such a treat.” Leaning back without even looking, he closed his eyes softly as his back pressed against Estinien’s armoured chest and the dragoon chuckled. “Victory deserves a reward, does it not, my lord?” One arm curled around Aymeric’s waist to pull him closer as Estinien rested his chin on his lord’s shoulder from behind with a soft sigh. “I should scold you for wandering around in the middle of the night on a rooftop without any armour or even Naegling…. But I rather prefer doing this without those thrice damned pauldrons in the way.”  
He had to chuckle at the scowl he could hear in Estinien’s voice even as that arm around his waist tightened fractionally. The only true outward sign that his dragoon missed him just as much as Aymeric had missed him. “If I recall correctly, it was _you_ who once accused me of sleeping in them. And had some rather inventive ideas for places that Halone could stow them. If memory serves me.” The teasing got him an amused snort and a nuzzle to his ear as he realized with some degree of surprise that Estinien was without his helm. He reached one hand up to gently comb fingers through hanging silver tresses with a soft teasing tug that got him a kiss nuzzled behind his ear. “My lord...for propriety’s sake I hope you are not attempting to seduce me on a rooftop… imagine the scandal.”

Laughing aloud, Aymeric shook his head as he set down his cup of tea and squirmed around to face his lover and pull Estinien into a lingering kiss. “I would be forced to admit that the idea had not occurred to me. Ere you mention it, however…it does have a certain appeal.” He trailed off with a teasing smirk as red-sparked eyes narrowed at him with a growl. “Be warned, my lord…. Enough teasing and you may be called upon to make good on these… /promises/.”

“Oh, and they are promises now? I was unaware that the notion of being seduced on a rooftop so appealed to you, Estinien.” He was rewarded with another scowl and a small box being shoved into his face. “Oh, by the Fury, just… _here_. You are insufferable, my lord. I would question as to your knowledge of that fact if I wasn’t damned certain that you are _perfectly_ aware of how much you vex me.”

The shorter Elezen was indeed completely aware of that fact. And guilty pleasure though it was, he couldn’t deny that he greatly enjoyed teasing his lover. Neither of them had come from noble standing, his own position had been gained through hard work and accomplishments but as such there were few who remembered that. And thus few with whom he could enjoy such easy camaraderie and closeness with. But Estinien had ever treated him the same, never caring what titles he gained or power he garnered. It had kept them close, and with their relationship since developed to what it was now, it was something he treasured. Those inner musings came to an end as a petulant huff drew his attention and Estinien nodded towards the box with a raised eyebrow and a scowl. “It is generally considered good manners to open a gift when one is presented with it, my lord. Or have you forgotten?”

Estinien seemed so genuinely put out by his momentary lapse that he offered his lover an apologetic smile and stole another soft kiss. “Peace, dear one. I was only savouring having you here with me, which is a gift enough in itself. Don’t be cross with me.” Though his ire cooled, the dragoon huffed and shifted his gaze to the side. “I am _not_ cross, I am attempting to be…. _considerate_. As I was unable to see you a fortnight ago.”

Dark brows drew together as he counted back days, confused as they ticked by until blue eyes suddenly widened as the realization hit him. A fortnight… Valentione’s. And Estinien had… “This is… for Valentione’s? Estinien, I never would have considered you to be a romantic.” The dragoon bristled at the gentle teasing, eyes glowing brighter as his scowl deepened. “Is it entirely outside of your ability to simply close your mouth and _open_ your gift, Aymeric?” Another laugh as he shook his head. “Alright, I meant it only in jest, my own. Truly, I had not expected anything.” Turning his attention back to the small box, he popped open the wooden lid to study the contents with a soft gasp. It was a jet black earcuff, similar to the one he always wore. Though this one looked fashioned out of small black scales and was set with a tiny twinkling ruby. Scales that looked… familiar. Narrowing his eyes, Aymeric fixed a sharp look at his lover and found his suspicion confirmed in a tiny bare spot amidst the scattering of dark scales beneath one pointed ear. Which meant… that Estinien had somehow made this for him.

“It’s...beautiful, Estinien. And I find myself ashamed that I have nothing to offer to you in return.”

“I need nothing of the sort.” He responded, and Aymeric couldn’t help the smile at just how adorable Estinien looked as he tried to avoid his lord’s gaze. He was even blushing just slightly. Stepping back just enough to raise his arms and unclasp the black iron from his ear, he carefully replaced it with Estinien’s gift. “I will always wear it. And think of you. My wandering dragoon.”

Though his words seemed to satisfy Estinien, there was still a tension on his frame that failed to leave as Aymeric slipped arms around his waist. “What troubles your mind, love? It flies far away, it would seem.”

Silent for a long moment, his arms tightened around Aymeric again as he sucked in a slow breath as though preparing himself for some daunting trial. “You speak true when you call me a wanderer. And yet, despite my travels and the passage of time, precious little has changed. In truth, I even went so far as to seek out Vidofnir’s council on the matter of Nidhogg’s lingering taint. To no avail. It would seem… that this is like to be my continued lot in this life. A farce of myself that I am still learning to accept. And I would ask you yet again…. Is this truly what you would desire?”

It was the same insecurity, and though his heart ached to see that hesitation etched onto Estinien’s face it reassured him to see the easing of some degree of the bitterness that had so coloured his lover’s face in all too recent times. Reaching up, he rested one warm hand against the dragoon’s cheek, smiling softly as the taller man turned his face into the touch and closed his eyes. “My desires have not changed, dear one. And they will not. Man, dragon, or something in between, I care not. You are Estinien. That is all that matters to me.”

“Then you would have me? Even without hope of reversing this...curse?”

He knew the repeated question was simply a reassurance to himself and Aymeric smiled as he raised an eyebrow at his lover. “Will I have you? Why Estinien Wyrmblood, if I am to believe my own ears… I would fain that to be a proposal.” The comment had crimson eyes shooting open as the dragoon sputtered and choked on whatever words he had been contemplating. “You… I…. my lord, you… the Fury take you, Aymeric de Borel, you know perfectly well what I was referring to!” He snapped as the dark-haired man burst out laughing, nearly doubled over in amusement at the now red-face dragoon. It was all he could do not to just dump the abandoned teacup over the swiving whoreson’s thrice-damned head. Spinning on his heel and determined to stalk off in a right state, he found himself yanked back by a hand around his wrist as Aymeric spun him around into a deep kiss. Alright…. He would stalk off in a right state in a minute. Or two. Or five. And he would wipe that ridiculous smirk off of his lord’s face because by the twelve he did _not_ find it adorable. Chuckling through the kiss, Aymeric pulled back to press his forehead against Estinien’s.

“Truly I do, my love. But I have missed teasing you. Come inside and sit with me. Please.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed back towards the stairs. Pausing to glance back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Oh, and Estinien ….. The answer is yes. To both.” Without another word he left the dragoon to mutter under his breath about swiving whoresons and silver tongued devils before he stalked down the stairs after.


End file.
